Lift Me From This Place
by TempleMistress
Summary: ObiWan&Anakin, implied slash, lotsa angst. Sometimes, in a relationship, both people are right, and both are wrong, and no one wins, and no one is to blame. How then, do you learn to let go? Absolutely AU. Opens five years after ObiWan leaves for Utapau


I'm back! Ok, yeah, so it's been quite a while, I know. I lost my A/O muses for quite a while, but yay--I found them again! I want to thank everyone who wrote to encourage me to get back to writing--it really helped. I cannot thank **hyypchick** enough for keeping the A/O fires burning for me, **brynneeryn **for being so supportive and understanding (OMG so much), and **xtinethepirate**, for inadvertently calling my muses back.

**Author's note: **This fic, well, is angst-o-rama and doesn't have the patented "happy mushy ending" for the boys. I was going through a very blue period, and I swear, writing was the only way to move past it.

It is absolutely AU. It flagrantly ignores anything of the Dark Side, Sidious, Mustafar, or Padme's death. It opens five years after Obi-Wan goes to Utapau. Sometimes, in a relationship, both people are right, and both are wrong, and no one wins, and no one is to blame. How then, do you learn to let go? 

Suggested music: **_Full of Grace_** and **_I Will Not Forget You _**(see end)—words and music by Sarah McLachlan

_so it's better this way, I said  
having seen this place before  
where everything we say and do  
hurts us all the more  
its just that we stayed, too long  
in the same old sickly skin  
I'm pulled down by the undertow__  
I never thought I could feel so low  
oh darkness I feel like letting go_

_--**Full of Grace**, _Sarah McLachlan

"_Ani? Ani? I need your help—Luke's levitating Artoo and dropping him again, and Leia's having trouble dressing her Luminara doll, and you know I never understood those Jedi robes. The Queen commed and needs my assistance, so I have to go, ok? Anakin?…"_

His wife's voice carries on the wind, across the estate they now call their home, into the small tool shed where he passes time fixing up old droids and speeders for everyone and no one. Her words float into his ears, but he chooses not hear them. His hands, one gloved, the other tanned and shaking, reverently unfold the creased and weathered piece of flimsiplast as though it were a delicate ancient scroll from some long-lost culture. It is a solemn ritual they've performed so often that he is not even consciously aware of the movement, and is startled to find the letter open, ready, and waiting for him. The only sounds to be heard in the simple shed, hidden behind a broken, half-wrecked speeder, are quiet, hitched sobs and the gasping for breath every so often.

It is a visceral experience for him, the words conjuring memories and emotions that seem to take corporeal form, whispering to him of roads not taken, dreams unfulfilled, and all that he has lost in spite of all that he has gained. He wonders if this will be the time that they strangle him and refuse to let him go. He wonders if he cares to fight them, because he knows this is his penance.

Anakin reads not to remember, but because he cannot _forget_.

_My young Padawan,_

_Even after all this time, Anakin, I still can't help but call you that. When I close my eyes, I can see you clearly, not as that 9-year-old tag along of Qui-Gon's, but as my brash, strong, and brave 19-year old apprentice, confident enough to lead armies across the galaxy, yet young enough to still seek comfort in my arms after one of your nightmares. But you're neither of these anymore. You're a Jedi Knight now. A man. And mine no longer._

_I should have had the courage to tell you this in person, Anakin. But for all the battles I've fought and Sith Lords I've taken on, I find that I'm simply a common coward. I was afraid that telling you I wanted more would do nothing but push you into Padmé's arms. I was afraid of making you acknowledge this chasm that had opened between us, and how I could feel you, us, slipping away. I don't know why or how it happened and we both tried so hard to ignore it. Force knows, Anakin, maybe if I had said something, we could have fixed it, done something differently that would not bring us to this point. But here we are._

_I have to let you go, my Padawan. I have to say goodbye._

_I shared nearly every moment of my life with you for more than a decade, and it still wasn't enough for me, did you know that? I love you Anakin, more than anyone I've ever loved, and more intensely than I thought possible. I wish I could explain it, that I could understand how you became the center of my world when everything I knew, everything I was, said that it wasn't right, that I shouldn't feel that way, that I should simply be your Master and nothing more. But I can't explain it, any more than I can understand how you ever came to love an emotionally closed-off and utterly too-serious old man. _

_I know now that you and I were not meant to last forever, and saying that, admitting that, is one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. I love you, I will always love you, but that isn't enough anymore, not for either of us. I think you know it, too, but you were never one for giving up easily, were you? But Anakin, I feel the conflict in you, how you are torn in two directions, and I don't want that for you. I don't want that for me, either. I'm selfish enough, and old enough, to know what I want, and what I want is you. All of you. And I know that is not possible._

_I try to understand why you went to Padmé, why I wasn't enough for you, why you needed so much more attention than I could give you, but Force help me, I find myself angry as well that you just couldn't find enough happiness with me. The way you were raised on Tatooine, how none of your relationships could be counted on to be lasting…I should have seen it coming, how you wouldn't be able to believe that I would want to stay with you forever, when in truth, I wanted that more than anything, and fervently wished that it would always be so. The sixteen years between us mocked me every night that you fell asleep in my arms, whispering to me that I was too old for you, that I couldn't give you everything you needed and deserved, that Padmé could give you so much more. Was there anything I could have done differently, Anakin, to make you feel happier, more content, and whole? I think perhaps I knew the answer to that from the beginning, but wanted to believe that I could be different, for you, and that if I gave you everything of me, I would be enough. I'm truly sorry, Anakin, that I wasn't._

_I'm tired of fighting this, Anakin. Tired of being sad and angry and not understanding why, other than I miss you with every part of me, and yet I can no longer be around you. You are everywhere, Anakin. Your Force-signature, your face, the scent of your hair, the blue of your eyes, the impossibly gentle touch of your hands. I can feel you in my clothes when I dress, in my bed when I roll out of it in the morning, in the 'fresher as the hot water washes over my skin. I remember it all, like a holofile stuck on repeat. My heart wants me to forget and let go, because it hurts me so much, but my head stubbornly refuses to cooperate. Every speeder makes me think of you, every frown on a frustrated Master's face makes me chuckle, wondering how often I looked like that, and every Delta-Six in the fleet reminds me that yes, two can fit in a single-seater, if properly motivated. You're everywhere Anakin, and I don't know how to… find peace._

_So many times I've tried to let you go, to graciously back away and to accept from a distance what time and love you could give me, but then you'd flash that smile, caress my cheek, tell me how much you loved and needed me, and that resolve just melted away. I told myself that I was imagining problems, and that if I just did this, or you did that, we could ignore the rest—our duties, the Council, Padmé, the galaxy. When it was just us, it felt so right, like we were truly two halves of the same whole, not Master and Padawan, not Kenobi and Skywalker, but simply Obi-Wan and Anakin. Partners, friends, lovers. _

_I know for a time we were, my Padawan, and I would not trade that for anything, not even to lessen this feeling that now consumes me. Being run-through by a Sith's blade would likely hurt less, but to never have loved you, to never have had your love, is inconceivable. You were my life, Anakin. I gladly accept this pain, if it means I can hold on to the memory that was us._

_I know you love me, I do. I know it is not in your nature to let things be, to let go of those you care about. Please, please try to accept this; I don't know if I have the strength to fight you on this Anakin, and I just don't want to fight. I'm really not selfless, nor am I noble. I don't want to give you up, but I know that I need to._

_Tomorrow I leave for Utapau, and once Grievous is defeated, I've asked the Council to assign me to a permanent post in the Outer Rim. Anakin, please, listen to me. Do not wait for me, do not look for me, and please do not ask me to be any less than I am, nor offer to try to be any less than you are. Leave the Jedi, and go build a life with Padmé, one that does not involve wars and killing and rules that smother your light and cage your spirit. I love you enough to let you go, to be with the person you need to be with. And that, sadly, is no longer me. I'm not even sure you realize this yet. But you will. Someday, you too will see that I'm simply an impediment to you living the life you were meant to have and being the man you were meant to be. Above all else, I want you to be happy, Anakin._

_Know that wherever the Force leads me, I will always love you, Padawan mine. May the Force guide you, protect you, and bring you peace._

_Goodbye, my friend. Goodbye, my love._

_Obi-Wan_

The familiar grief and longing consumes Anakin now as the letter falls from his fingers, his body falling slack against the dusty speeder. He bites his lip trying to contain the sobs and manages to quiet himself for a couple of heartbeats, and he thinks to himself that he's doing better this time. Maybe next time he won't cry, he hopes. A sardonic chuckle escapes his throat, for he knows that in the last five years, he's had the same hope, and nothing has changed. It may have been five years, but it might as well been yesterday.

It has been five years since Obi-Wan let him go. Five years since a hole opened in his heart that he believes may never be healed, a wound that aches as though it has been torn open each time he remembers his Master. Anakin thinks about the life he has now, one with a loving wife and family, one that's free from death and anger and nightmares, one where the galaxy is at peace, and he wants to be able to say that everything that happened was for the best.

Five years, and he's still not sure he can convince himself of that.

"I'm sorry, Obi-Wan, I'm so _sorry_," he whispers brokenly to the letter. "I wanted you both. I know it was wrong, I know I hurt you, but I thought I could have you both. I _still_ love you. I-I never stopped. I don't know _how_ to stop" Looking up, tears streaming down reddened cheeks, he repeats the same desperate plea he does each time he reads Obi-Wan's goodbye. "Force, _please_, help me. Help me forget. Help me to let him _go_…"

Anakin rubs the heels of his hands against his eyes, drying them on his grease-stained work pants. Gingerly, he picks up the aging flimsiplast and carefully folds it back up. Pushing himself to his feet, he walks over to the small lock box that no one, not even Padmé, knows he keeps out here. He opens the box and places the letter in its spot, trying desperately not to look at the rest of its contents: the padawan braid, the lock of auburn hair, the lightsabre, the rough brown robe, and the holographs he knows are all in there. They are all mementos, memorials, really, to a life he once had, a life he once _loved_, and a life he would never have again. It is all he has left of that life, of Obi-Wan, and for all the pain it causes him, he knows it would be far worse to not have them at all.

He closes the box gently and places it high on a shelf cluttered with tools, safe from prying eyes and curious fingers. Anakin sags against the tool bench, his eyes closing briefly as he runs a nervous hand through his hair. He'll be back; tomorrow, next week, maybe next month. Anakin turns towards the door and takes a deep breath.

"I'm coming, Padmé," he calls out. "Tell them I'll be right there."

_I remember when you left in the morning at daybreak  
So silent you stole from my bed  
To go back to the one who possesses your soul  
And I back to the life that I dread.  
So I ran like the wind to the water  
Please don't leave me again I cried  
And I threw bitter tears at the ocean  
But all that came back was the tide..._

_I will not forget you  
Nor will I ever let you go…_

--**_ I Will Not Forget You_, **Sarah McLachlan


End file.
